


The Night of Blood and Fire

by lightning_bird



Category: Final Space (Cartoon)
Genre: Betrayal, Captivity, Child Murder, M/M, Murder, No Beta, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, We die like redshirts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29245377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightning_bird/pseuds/lightning_bird
Summary: "For eternity! For Lord Commander!"Twelve shots rang out. Twelve sprays of blood and gore in shades of red and green and blue. Twelve bodies crumpled to the ground. Twelve loyal generals.What of the thirteenth?
Relationships: Avocato & Little Cato (Final Space), Avocato & Lord Commander (Final Space), Avocato/Gary Goodspeed
Comments: 123
Kudos: 54





	1. Lord Commander

The Lord Commander was pissed off.

And when he was pissed off, someone else had to suffer for it.

He sat on his oversized throne in a darkened, cavernous room, brooding. Given the events of the previous day, it was inevitable that there would be repercussions. After a theft, break-in, escape, disappearance, and gunfight right in the heart of the Tera Con Empire, an example simply had to be made or more idiots would get the idea that this was acceptable behavior. That much was obvious. It was an insult of the highest order, and someone had to answer for it.

No him, of course, being the true victim in the situation, but someone.

The theft, at least, had been thwarted, and by General Avocato of all people. As if the man wasn't already covered in enough laurels, he just had to up and save the day again. Or saved part of the day, at least. The security system at the vault had turned weirdly erratic for the duration of the incident, skipping and blurring the images so what happened was not exactly clear, but the door had been opened and a struggled ensued. The scientists examining the footage, unable to explain the interference, theorized the thieves had a hitherto unknown jamming device. Avocato, who suffered a broken wrist from fighting with the four thieves, could only say they had been oh-so-conveniently dressed as members of the imperial guards. He could not even be sure of their races, though he though one might be robotic. All Avocato said was that the thieves had not escaped with the Lord Commander's prize, and the elegant device, known to the general only as Darshon's Key, was safely contained where it belonged. Avocato did voice concern that they had found the vault at all, but the only thing the Lord Commander cared about was that the dimensional key remained in his possession.

Even Avocato's excuse for being near the high-security vault was annoyingly plausible, too, precluding him from bearing the brunt of the Lord Commander's wrath. He said after the rally, he had gone home to check on his son, and then intended to return to his office after stopping by the weapons lab to look in on the planned upgrades for the standard-issue laser rifles when he'd noticed something awry.

That level of conscientiousness was galling, even moreso than Avocato's over-educated vocabulary and use of the word awry. Any of the other generals would have sent one of their junior officers for something so mundane, but not Avocato. Granted, he had recently dismissed his aide-de-camp and had yet to tap a replacement. That wasn't the point. General Avocato liked to see these things for himself, to fire the guns and wear the armor and fly the ships, so when there were problems, he could understand them better. His satisfaction mattered more to the rank-and-file than the Lord Commander's, and they jumped through hoops to keep him happy. Not that he, the Lord Commander, had ever shown the least interest in the well-being of his troops, their weapons, their armor, their ships the way Avocato did. That wasn't the point. The point was that Avocato was maddeningly perfect and smart and tall and even the Lord Commander had to admit the Ventrexian looked damned good in that precision-tailored uniform.

The bastard. Small wonder the whole army was in madly love with him.

For an individual who hated pretty much everyone but himself, the Lord Commander couldn't hate Avocato more. He'd tried his best to build on the emotion, but how did you build on an absolute? It was something of a compliment, really. He hated the general because he needed and envied him. Avocato was an unparalleled military genius and fearless leader. After almost ten years of service, he had never disobeyed an order, almost never lost a battle and had never lost a fleet action, never presented the Lord Commander with any reason to lash out at him. On the contrary. Avocato was ruthlessly efficient and had expanded the empire at an astonishing rate, as much with diplomacy as brute force. His record for success was positively nauseating. The Ventrexian warlord was easily the most hated being in history - living, dead, or otherwise. In the past decade, this one man had brought death and destruction down on more worlds than even the Inci Empire. His death count was off the charts. More people had tried to kill him than the Lord Commander himself.

Not that he was counting . . . out loud, at least, but he found the imbalance to be completely unacceptable. There were transgressions that could never be forgiven, and this was one of them. The second was not allowed to outshine the first, especially since Avocato made it look so effortless.

And there was something about him . . . it almost felt as if Avocato was distracted, as if he was merely playing at his role of second-in-command. He knew things the Lord Commander didn't. But how could he? What was it? What did he know that gave him that bottomless well of patience and the distant look in his eyes? How did he pull off this air of detachment so seamlessly? Was he up to something? What was his plan?

Not having the answers – and not being able to ask the questions without that inscrutable frown descending onto that hairy face – was maddening.

He knew Avocato despised serving him, but only because he had read the general's mind once, not because of anything that had been said or done. And even then, he hadn't really been able to get a hold on that psyche – a will as strong as Avocato's was hard to circumvent and he'd only gained a few impressions, nothing concrete. Avocato's emotions had been directed not at the Lord Commander, but the position he was in. He was good, very good, at hiding his feelings, and unlike weaker-minded individuals, he had sensed the attempted invasion and resisted. Oh, well, at least he'd given the general a three-day migraine to cover his tracks. It was the least that son of a bitch deserved. The Lord Commander had happily put on a show of sympathy and even sent his own physician to check on the general.

And if Avocato knew it was the Lord Commander, he'd never said a word.

Stoic bastard. He was probably just showing off.

Maybe it was time for another migraine.

Of all his generals, Avocato was the only real threat to the Lord Commander's authority and they both knew it, even though Avocato never gave the least indication he wanted anything more than what he had. Truth be told, it was a hell of a lot. As second-in-command of the empire, the Ventrexian had the soldiers and officers in his pocket – if he wanted them – and he managed to keep the top generals in check. No small feat, considering there were twelve generals immediately under Avocato and every one of them was as ravenous for power as a Zargon Slug. Any of the other generals would have given anything, paid any price to occupy Avocato's position, but they were not beloved and followed with blind devotion. They also weren't nearly as capable, a fact none of them seemed to recognize, and some were roundly hated by the people serving under them.

Avocato was, simply put, the lynchpin holding the military – and therefore the empire - together. Strangely, he just seemed content leading and conquering and playing soldier. He entertained no ambition to occupy the throne and rule the empire himself and probably would have been happy as a rank-and-file soldier. That in itself spoke volumes. The Lord Commander knew that given a chance, Avocato would simply walk away from all of this, something he could never allow.

Avocato was his, and Avocato had to go.

And the truest proof of ownership was the ability to destroy the thing you owned.

Firing or exiling him was out of the question. The military would revolt and rally to Avocato's side and bye-bye empire. Executing him was tempting, but the charges would have to be iron-clad, believable, and treasonous enough to turn the army against him. Fat chance of that, given his degree of perfection. Imprisoning him was dangerous, and multiple assassination attempts had failed. If Avocato had any real sense of duty, he'd just up and keel over tomorrow and save the Lord Commander a lot of scheming. A state funeral would be very enjoyable, though the Avocato-shaped void left behind would be a colossal pain in the ass to deal with. He'd learned that lesson when they thought Avocato had been lost with the _Kalibar_.

That left one avenue open: promote him. Put Avocato in a position with a fancy title and no authority. Put him in charge of a weather station on Ith. He'd probably enjoy it, actually. Let him cool his heels on a ball of ice until some assassin or rebel faction or marauding wildlife found him out and eliminated him.

Appealing as that was, the Lord Commander couldn't let Avocato out of his sight without some serious leverage to control him. He presented too great a danger. He was, after all, the most talented and capable leader in the universe. Wealth and power and property couldn't sway the Ventrexian. He already possessed those things. Such methods had been tried many times in the past, and they had all failed. Only one thing really mattered to him.

His son.

A bratty child, in the Lord Commander's opinion, but then, they were all brats until he could actually make use of them. The little Ventrexian always seemed to be moving and making noise and getting into things, and Avocato brought him everywhere with him. How did Avocato abide such a nuisance and distraction? Ventrexian parenting left a lot to be desired. As far as the Lord Commander was concerned, Avocato's son would be best served in a cage.

Now there was an idea . . .

A slow, satisfied smile spread across the Lord Commander's face, displaying his pointed teeth. The boy, Little Cato, was the means of grinding Avocato under his heel. A plan was forming, a plan that would either bind Avocato to his cause forever, or provide the means to get rid of the greatest threat to his authority.

Yes . . . it was inspired. And if he got rid of Avocato, he could arrange an alliance with the Infinity Guard high command, all of whom were so very eager to be corrupted. They were too afraid of Avocato - who for all his savagery and ruthlessness was not corrupt - sweeping them aside to take that final step while the Ventrexian was in power. They were cowards, but useful ones.

And speaking of usefulness, it seemed for all his talent, Avocato had outlived his.

Besides, time was counting down. He needed to reach Final Space soon if he was to fulfill his destiny. But the loss of E35-1 was a serious setback. He needed to get it back, but he couldn't send just any flunky after it. It was too dangerous. He needed someone steady and skilled, who would respect the little destroyer's destructive powers without letting fear sway them. Otherwise he'd never see E35-1 or the person again.

Hunched on his throne, the Lord Commander glowered and planned. Security of Tera Con Prime had never been the responsibility of his generals. They were usually flung too far afield for such matters, and Avocato was always too busy. Since he couldn't be pissed at Avocato himself right now, it stood to reason in the Lord Commander's mind that he could at least be pissed at all his generals. He had enough of them that they could share his wrath. He would test them all. A trial by fire, as it were. Those that passed would be rewarded for their loyalty.

Those that failed would be dealt with. Quickly. Harshly. Permanently.

When all was said and done, Avocato would either be by his side or at his feet.

It looked as if he'd found his someone else after all.

"Eric," he snapped, sitting up as inspiration hit, "send a memo to my generals. The capitol is not as safe was we believed. From now on, I require them to be armed at all times."

"Yes, Lord Commander," groveled his hapless servant. In truth his name wasn't Eric, but the Lord Commander couldn't be bothered to learn the names of the people who served him because they rarely lived very long. They were all Eric, and the faster they learned that, the longer they lived.

"And recall all of them to Tera Con Prime. I expect them here no later than this time next week."

"Yes, Lord Commander."

"Have they found the keeper for my treasure house yet?"

"N-no, Lord Commander. Hooblot remains were discovered on the main floor, and it's 62% match for the missing keeper, Melanie DeWinter. The remains were fairly decomposed, and the scientists conjecture she might have been licked by the cadaversaur during feeding time and only made it as far as the main floor before . . . decaying. Their saliva will dissolve anything organic."

"What of E35-1?"

"T-there has not been any sign of it, Lord Commander. There was a broken window in the treasure house, and damage to the roof. The officers investigating think it m-may have escaped that way," Eric ended softly, clearly afraid the Lord Commander would unleash his wrath.

He flopped back into his throne. "Damn."


	2. Avocato

"Dad? Daa-ad? Hey, Dad, should I be worried I have the same initials as the Lord Commander?"

He almost choked on his tea.

"What? No!" Avocato shook his head, recovering his astonishment. Such a thing to wonder about. Hastily he set the tea down and picked up the napkin to wipe his mouth before his son could launch another assault, trying not to laugh. "They're only the same in basic. What the heck brought that on?"

"Just checking. You were, like, a zillion miles away. Thinking super-deep thoughts there?"

"Mmm, maybe not super-deep. What's on your mind, boy?"

Little Cato giggled at the gentle teasing, clearly delighted with generating such a reaction out of his famously unflappable father. The idea that there could be _any_ connection between Little Cato and the Lord Commander was rather jarring. They were in the mansion's study, a comfortable and tastefully decorated room that included space for each of them. They occupied two matching desks so that when they were home and they had work to get done, they could still spend time together and talk. Little Cato's desk was cluttered with school supplies, action figures, video games, and other detritus that came from being eleven. Avocato's desk held a computer, a small holo-image of his late wife holding Little Cato, and nothing more. Classified as _highly personal space_ , no one - not the household servants, the cleaning robots, or each other - was allowed to touch these desks save the owners. For Little Cato, it was a badge of maturity that he was afforded such absolute privacy, and it was a responsibility he took very seriously. They both did.

Avocato had worked hard at their relationship of late, and it was paying off. He had been on Tera Con Prime for almost half a year, the longest he'd gone without deployment since being taken into the Lord Commander's service. Being home almost every night and establishing a routine of spending time and at least one meal with his son each day had gone far towards establishing a healthier relationship than they'd enjoyed in ages.

"So you're coming to my thimbles game tomorrow?"

"Yes, but since I'll be taking time off for it, I'll have to go work a few hours to make up for it, so I won't be home for dinner. Unless, of course -"

"War breaks out between now and then," droned Little Cato. It was an oft-repeated warning, one that had come true several times in the past.

Avocato smiled. "Who will you be playing?"

And so the conversations went, light and full of banter that got easier as time went on. Exhausting the topic of thimbles for the moment, Little Cato asked,

"How's the wrist?"

Avocato glanced down at the now-healed arm he'd deliberately fractured a week ago for the sake of verisimilitude at the high-security vault. Broken bones were a small price to pay to cover the theft and return of the Lord Commander's dimensional key, but his son had been duly impressed with the story of his dad single-handedly taking on four thugs trying to make off with one of the Lord Commander's prize possessions. The truth - that Time Swap Sammy had returned the key less than five minutes after Gary had taken it, then messed with the time signatures on the security feeds so Avocato could say he had happened upon the theft in progress before punching the wall hard enough to snap his wrist - was far weirder and less dramatic. The security system - cameras, audio, infra-red - had shown Avocato racing up the stairs to the vault to confront the four people disguised as guards, then flashes and static punctuated by brief glimpses of a struggle in and around the vault until, supposedly, the thieves had fled back to the city. The excitement concluded with Avocato, injured and with blood on his face, staggering upright and returning the key to its place as klaxons sounded.

All very neat and logical. Sensational and stirring as the image was, it was patently false. Only two people in creation knew that, and the one who had staged it had slipped away back through time.

Since Little Cato had proven such an outstanding audience, Avocato had returned the favor and listened to the thrilling blow-by-blow battle his son had fought against some weird Ventrexian kid that showed up on their doorstep. Overlooking how the conclusion of the match pretty much faded away to nothing when he'd been knocked out by his older self, Little Cato still gave a good account of himself, so much so that his father had asked for multiple retellings of the adventure and was even favored with a one-player reenactment in the mansion's foyer.

Meeting Sammy had been odd to say the least, but Avocato had given up striving for a normal life the day he first stepped foot on Tera Con Prime. He now knew, with absolute certainty, things were about to get real.

_"Who the hell are you?"_

_The tubular and toothy alien smiled and waved. "Call me Time Swap Sammy, General. I'm guessing Gary gave you my message to wait for me. Catch."_

_Avocato, well beyond being surprised by anything at this point, caught the dimensional key tossed his way. "I just let him take this!"_

_"I know," said Sammy, looking around the vault with interest. "But this artifact needs to be here at this and an upcoming moment in time, so Gary returned it in exchange for your life. His past, your furure."_

_"He told me. He broke time for me."_

_"Yee-up. Odd to remember things that haven't happened yet, hmm?_ Wink _. Thing is, he's saving your life twice: then, and now."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"How happy do you think the Lord Commander is going to be when he finds out you let 'the Gary' waltz in and take his prize paperweight?"_

_"It's just Gary. And I'll get shot."_

_"Uh-huh. So why'd you let them take it?" pressed Sammy, his curiosity and admiration genuine as Avocato spoke of his execution as a simple fact._

_"Because my son needed it."_

_The green alien gazed at Avocato for a long moment, clearly impressed at such essential courage and faith. A slow smile split his face, and he nodded approvingly._

_"Well then, General, what say you we rewind events a little and put on a nice show for the cameras?_ Wink _."_

It was immeasurably comforting and terrifying to confirm the events following the destruction of the _Kalibar_ seven years prior had actually happened, and the next stage of his life was beginning. Looking back, the whole situation seemed too fantastical to believe. Gary Goodspeed, the crew of the _Crimson Light_ , his fourteen-year-old son all existed. Of course, for them, they hadn't gone back in time to save him yet, so the Gary he'd met on the steps outside the vault didn't know they were married. He was at once glad and disappointed Gary had been wearing a helmet. Much as he would have loved to see the human's smile again, no force in the universe could have maintained his show of impatience and kept Avocato from kissing him breathless. The timeline probably would have spiraled straight down the drain.

Time travel was so touchy. It was the mother of all headaches.

So he had told his beloved husband to piss off before calling him by that rudest and most precious of pet names: humanoid trash. He already knew Gary would figure out and appreciate the gesture down the road.

Since meeting Gary and learning the shape of things to come, Avocato had used the time and history of the future he had been given very well. He was nothing if not exacting and good at planning. He had established untraceable caches of money and weapons at various locations he knew he would visit. He had created back doors into the Tera Con database so he could access the information if needs be. He had taken care of Clarence Polkawitz, too - saving his life, assisting him off of Zee Secundus when the whole system was blockaded, seeing that his business license fees on Tera Con Prime were waived and rushed through the vetting process, and turning a blind eye to some of his shadier business practices.

But his greatest success was his son. Little Cato, at eleven years old, was a remarkable child even by Avocato's standards. A good student, he excelled at martial arts and thimbles. He could shoot fixed and moving objects, and had no problems hitting a target when he was moving. He was versed in spacewalking and how to fight in zero gravity. He was learning the basics of piloting and navigation, and Avocato himself taught him how to shoot a turret gun that was standard on most spaceships.

And then there were the little things, most of which Avocato had taught Little Cato himself: computer hacking, how to use a bladed weapon, basic engine repair, the dirtier ways a Ventrexian could fight, the sign language utilized by the Ventrexian military, how to keep his mind occupied in down time, how to relax body and mind, hunting and tracking. What was more, Avocato taught his son to keep his silence and his cool, to recognize danger and dangerous people, to look at everything as a weapon, and how to conduct himself in tense situations. All his wisdom and experience, lessons good and bad, all the fatherly advice he could muster, Avocato had poured into Little Cato. The end results, especially over these past few months, was an intelligent, confident, well-behaved, and highly accomplished child who _trusted_ his father and came to him with questions and problems. Just seeing his son filled Avocato with so much pride that he could barely contain himself.

"Still attached," he replied, gesturing smoothly with his hand, and Little Cato smiled.

Forewarned and forearmed, he knew to be anxious and alert for upcoming events. If Gary's stories of events held true, a trial was looming, a test of loyalty he did not dare pass. Avocato knew the next few years were going to be tumultuous and hard for both him and his son. His extended stay on Tera Con Prime was one indicator. While enjoyable, it was also highly suspect, seeing as he represented such a useful and successful resource which had essentially languished here the last few months. Gary's request for the dimensional key and meeting Time Swap Sammy immediately after was another. And finally, the Lord Commander's order for his generals to return to Tera Con Prime and to be armed at all times - something they had never been expected to do in the past - pointed to things were about to come to a head. The Lord Commander liked to lull his victims into complacency with subtle changes, soft words, and promises, but Avocato had seen that happen too many times to be fooled.

They dined alone and informally that evening, served by the housekeeper and valet. Both father and son were feeling the absence of Nikos keenly, but the aide-de-camp was safer away from Tera Con Prime and Avocato. The colonel would have stayed regardless of the danger, but knowing things were teetering on the edge of disaster, there was no way Avocato could have kept his best friend safe for long. No, Nikos was better off back on Ventrexia with his wife and daughters. Avocato could never have faced Cordell again if he allowed any harm to come to her husband. It had been difficult to make Little Cato understand the situation without frightening him, and Avocato desperately wished he could have sent his son back to Ventrexia when Nikos asked to take him. He had tried to get permission for Little Cato to travel, but the Lord Commander demurred, citing how much he enjoyed the presence of children and his concern about splitting up a family.

A bald-faced lie if ever there was one – Avocato knew perfectly well the man he served could not abide children – but he was not in any position to argue. So, his son was here, a convenient hostage.

They kept each other company in this lonely mansion and Avocato did everything he could to prepare his son for the events fast descending upon them. He was far less worried for himself, being a much harder target than a child, not to mention his immense value to the Lord Commander. Simply put, Avocato was impossible to replace, though he doubted the Lord Commander appreciated that fact.

Not yet, anyway.

He knew the value of the generals under him. None of them had what it would take to keep this empire united.

He had put Little Cato to bed and was reviewing a proposed revision of the treaty with the Lorat system when the Lord Commander's messenger arrived. The housekeeper ushered the Shestin courier into the study, where it hovered impatiently, waiting for Avocato to finish his reading but knowing better than to interrupt. Reaching the end of the paragraph, Avocato set the treaty aside.

"Yes?"

The Shestin's wings whirred as it finally set down on the carpet to deliver its message. Bright red and orange, it was best described as a downy cross between insect and bird, and standing straight it could have stood under Avocato's desk with room to spare for its feathery antennae. How like the Lord Commander to surround himself with beings smaller than himself. The Shestin bowed as it held out a missive.

"The Lord Commander's respects, General Avocato."

While it was not unusual for the Lord Commander to send non-essential messages by courier, mostly because the comm systems were beyond his skills, but usually they were on data chips or verbal. Avocato's suspicions were immediately roused as he took the letter.

It was an order wrapped in an invitation. Tomorrow night he was to bring his son to the observatory that was housed in the lava fields on the dark side of Tera Con Prime. A special event was promised.

The world grew dark for a few seconds as he recognized what this meant. This was the turning point Gary had warned him about seven years ago. He had been waiting for this moment for years, but now that it was here, he was horrified. Steeling his expression to a mask of utter neutrality, Avocato gave no indication that his hands had gone icy cold or his heart was fainting in his breast to read those words. He was aware that the Shestin was watching him very closely. Too closely. It clearly had orders to report if Avocato had any sort of reaction, and the general refused to give anything away.

"Convey my respects and thanks to the Lord Commander," Avocato said evenly. "Let him know my son and I are honored by his invitation, and will meet him at the observatory."

"I was to ask if you have any questions."

Avocato folded the letter, looking hard at the messenger. He frowned, pinning the Shestin with his gaze until the little alien squirmed at his intense scrutiny, pretending not to understand the point or why there might be any confusion. After an exhausting week of welcome ceremonies for eight returning generals and the headache of having so many heavy incinerators in orbit around Tera Con Prime, Avocato was in no mood for this hairy upstart. "Have I _ever_ questioned the Lord Commander's word?"

They both knew the answer to that, but Avocato knew tomorrow was another day.

The Shestin bowed, cowed. "Apologies, General Avocato."

"Dismissed," he ordered coldly, glad to be rid of yet another spy. The Shestin bowed again and fled in a blur of red.

He did not sleep that night. Instead he stayed up cleaning and priming his blaster. The gun had to be in perfect working order. He could not afford to miss the next time he fired it.


	3. Little Cato

Despite the fact that his father had just watched his match from beginning to end, Little Cato could not resist giving him an exacting and detailed account of the thimbles game his team had just won. Avocato, hands clasped behind him and imposing and impressive in his uniform, ignored the security detail surrounding them both and the frightened looks other parents cast him as they scurried out of the way as he gave all his attention to his son.

". . . and then Tombough caught the pass and _blasted_ it against the Fiboni forward. Having so many arms must be good when you have to clean your room, but it's not so helpful in thimbles."

"Less is more?" suggested his father with a knowing look.

Little Cato grinned, well aware he was talking to an expert in the game. Having seen his father compete in the thimbles arena, Little Cato did not ever have to see him in battle to know facing Avocato would be truly terrifying. At his age and grade, however, game play didn't incorporate the whole losing-of-limbs aspect, but a hit that _would_ have taken off a limb gained some serious points. "In thimbles, yeah." And then he plunged right back into his instant replay.

It wasn't until they were seated in the back of their private transport that he realized his father was distracted. That was nothing unusual. Little Cato understood his father's job as second in the Tera Con Empire and its supreme military commander was complex and highly demanding, and he could be called upon at any moment to report to his office, the Lord Commander's palace, or his flagship. He knew his father was paying attention still, but his mind was working over a problem.

"We're going to go right home. You need to shower and change, and then we'll have an early dinner," said Avocato, in a tone that did not invite debate.

"Are you going back to work?"

"Not to the office. The Lord Commander wants all his generals and their eldest children to meet him at the Kahu'tuk Observatory in the lava flats on the far side of the planet. Our shuttle leaves in a Tercon hour. We can't be late."

Little Cato blinked, considering this rather extraordinary statement and the hint of warning in his father's tone. The Lord Commander had never invited the children of his generals to do anything but go away from him. Even at family events held for the military or officers or inhabitants of the capital city, the Lord Commander seemed to think the young were tantamount to something infectious and that authority figures (such as himself) were best appreciated from afar. Like, far, far afar. Little Cato couldn't imagine any activity the Lord Commander devised could be interesting in any way. Probably boring adult stuff and he'd have to act like he was having a good time. Again. At least the other children would be there. He knew a few of the other generals' children, and three his age attended the same elite private school that he did. General Korku's daughter, Bimi, was an alternate on his thimbles team, and he knew and liked her best. Some of the children carried their parents' jealousies of his dad over to Little Cato and were best avoided, but they weren't all bad.

"What are we doing there?"

Avocato stirred, his hands curling into fists on his lap. "I'm not sure what he has in mind, so I want you to stay close. Who is it you trust?"

Little Cato grinned, pointing. "My dad!"

"Right. What's the first rule?"

Pop quizzes from his old man being a normal part of his life, he was ready. With both hands, Little Cato mimed the actions he described as he replied, "Eyes open, ears up, mouth shut."

Avocato smiled faintly at his antics. "Good. Second rule?"

"It's not over if you lose. It's over when you quit."

"Third rule?" he asked with an approving nod.

Little Cato could not keep the sly smile off his face, as if at some secret only he and his sire shared. "No matter where I am, _you_ will find me."

"No matter how long it takes," promised Avocato with a slow blink and a slight bow. With effort, he unclenched his hands, resting them on his lap as he took a deep, steadying breath. Noticing, Little Cato knew something was bothering his father, but he also knew it was useless to ask what it was.

He cleaned up and changed out of his thimbles uniform quickly once they reached the mansion, eager for some early dinner. He was surprised, then, to meet his father in the dining room and immediately to be asked,

"Is that outfit rated for vacuum?"

The question was completely unexpected and one he'd never been asked before. Little Cato glanced down at the multi-colored jumper he wore. "Uh, no. Why?"

"We'd best be ready for anything. Besides, it might get cold on that side of the planet. Go change."

Cold? On lava flats?

"Uh . . . okay," he said quickly to stave off an incoming frown. He ran back upstairs and grabbed the first things he knew could double as a spacesuit, _and_ the jet boots to accompany it. He clapped on the gauntlets, waist and cross belts that controlled the unit, then checked himself in the mirror. The outfit was a little large on him, but he liked it since Uncle Catowba had sent it for his eleventh birthday. The latest in Ventrexian fashion, the cowled yellow tunic and leggings were light and comfortable and made a far more dashing outfit than a jumper, one he wouldn't have dared wear before the Lord Commander without his father's direction. What was more, it was also rated for underwater use and insulated for heat or cold. It wasn't quite the shocktog his father wore - say a generation or two before that - but the tech incorporated into his father's uniforms was pretty hard to match.

Racing back to the dining room, Little Cato spread his hands in silent question, and Avocato, taken aback for a split second, nodded his satisfaction and gestured to him to take his seat. He obeyed quickly, glad he wasn't told to remove his jet boots. His father rarely allowed Little Cato to wear them unless they were camping or training. Little Cato noticed his father hardly touched the plate set before him. Having just finished a strenuous game, he applied himself to his food and not only cleaned his plate, but with his father's permission had seconds and dessert. They ate one of Little Cato's favorite meals - stuffed, roasted cally birds - one his father had to order the cook to make special, and he assumed it was to celebrate his thimbles victory. Happily sated, he was ready when one of the servants announced the shuttle was outside waiting for them.

The ride down to the dark side of the planet was unremarkable. Tera Con Prime was an ancient and battered sphere locked in a synchronous orbit around its two stars, with an axis tilt of just three degrees. The stars were pretty lame - an aged, barely-white-anymore main sequence and a red dwarf, neither particularly hot or bright or interesting - and their colors blended unevenly to give Tera Con Prime's sky a greenish cast that ranged from lime to olive and back. There were no seasons to speak of unless you visited the poles, and they were just a bit cooler than the rest of the place. Half the planet was in a murky, perpetual day, the other half in night, and everything seemed to be colored gray. Little Cato knew his father hated the planet passionately for that very reason: you had to travel to see stars, not wait for them to appear, and there was almost no variation in the weather. It was a pretty miserable and boring place, all in all, and a disappointing capitol for the empire. There wasn't even any sizable population on the planet, which had a remarkably limited flora and fauna and no oceans. Most people lived in the sputtering, overcrowded capitol city, also called Tera Con Prime for some reason. It was essentially a space station built into the remains of a moon, likewise locked in orbit over the sunlit side of the planet.

Turning from where he was watching the landscape whiz by, Little Cato looked at his father. Avocato had a portable computer with him and gave every indication of being productive, but he noticed the screen never changed and his father had a distant expression on his face. It struck Little Cato that his father was unaccountably sad.

"Dad?"

Caught, Avocato turned to him. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

Instantly, Little Cato regretted the question. He knew what the answer would be, what it had to be, and he mentally winced at putting his father on the spot. They were in a military shuttle, after all, with an armed escort and witnesses and his father could never be less than perfect before them. There was only one answer the Supreme Military Commander of the Tera Con Empire could possible give, though his eyes were full of understanding as he quietly said,

"I'm fine, boy. I'm just thinking. So when's your next match?"

Going along with the deflection, Little Cato rambled about thimbles, all the while knowing his father was far from being fine, but helpless to help.


	4. Avocato

It was Little Cato's choice of clothes that shook Avocato to the core. When he appeared in the dining room in the exact outfit Avocato had seen on his teenage son seven years earlier while aboard the _Crimson Light_ , it was almost more jarring than his self-control could contain. There would be no getting his mind back on track tonight, he knew, but he did have a facade to maintain. Luckily, years of command had taught him how to put on a very convincing show when his focus was light-years away. In the military shuttle taking them to the Kahu'tuk Observatory, he could only pretend to work, and with so many witnesses present, he evaded his son's concern even though he appreciated his kit wanted to help.

He wasn't sure help was possible. All he could do was keep his footing as he struggled against the current; inevitable, he would be washed away.

He had never been so frightened and nervous before in his life. Even going into battle for the first time against the Tryvuulians could not compare to this anxiety. He had never experienced anything like what he was feeling now. It was positively sickening. Avocato just wanted to take Little Cato and run as far and fast as he could. But he knew there was no escape. If he did anything other than show up with his son, they'd be hunted down and killed. This way, at least, they would have a chance, even if it didn't look like it at first.

He just prayed his faith in Gary Goodspeed wasn't misplaced and that Little Cato would forgive him some day.

That he was about to disgrace his name and service record meant nothing to Avocato. He had no name that mattered. At his own insistence, his family had disowned him years ago. His whole existence as the second of the Tera Con Empire was a disgrace, and he literally had nothing to lose. All his property, his money and estates on Ventrexia had been signed over to Little Cato years ago. Purrsis' dowry, her patents, her small inheritance of family heirlooms and jewelry – everything. Avocato owned nothing outside of his uniforms and weapons, and had no money beyond his salary, substantial as it was. Everything was held in trust for Little Cato by Catowba and his father-in-law. Compared to his son, former Lord Avocato of House Cato was a pauper, and gladly so.

Knowing what was about to happen, he wondered how and why the other generals could do what Gary had said they did. Execute their own children? To satisfy a dictator's whim? Was it fear? Herd mentality? Indifference? Or ambition? If they had known what he did, would they go through with it?

Was he the only one here who valued his child above himself?

With a little growl, Avocato abandoned that trail of thought and instead tried to get a feel for the place, just in case. The lava flats were impressive in their own way, rusty red stone veined with shiny black glass spreading out beneath the charred ruins of an ancient forest. The area was illuminated by deep cracks in the crust where exposed streams of lava glowed as hot as the suns. All very bleak and dramatic and stifling. The air, the ground, everything was hot just within the range of tolerable, and Avocato could feel his shocktog activating to keep him from overheating.

"Wow," breathed Little Cato, awed by the heat and the bleak setting. The kit strained to see in every direction at once.

"Stay close," he reminded, and was satisfied when he felt his son's small hand close around the end of his tail.

Avocato felt his concerns multiply at the number of guards he spotted spread out on the glassy plain surrounding the observatory. There were many more - at least twice as many - than would have normally been at such an event, even though it was rare for all the top-ranked generals to be together at once and security had to be tight. Avocato recognized the uniforms as the Lord Commander's personal bodyguards, not regular troops. They were hand-picked by him from the army, based on looks, not actual skill, so the performance records of the Imperial Guard left Avocato singularly unimpressed.

He spotted Generals Rig and Korku talking with Tchop while their children wandered about. They saluted respectfully and Avocato returned the greeting automatically, but he did not join them. He could not trust himself to converse right now. Fortunately, since he outranked them all and despite the wording of the invitation they all knew this was not a social event, they would not approach him unless he allowed them to.

"There's Bimi," said Little Cato, waving to the Borlon. She waved a webbed hand back at him. Avocato did not look at her, afraid of what he might betray, wondering if some eleventh hour miracle could stop tonight from happening. "Can I go say hi?"

He reached down to stroke his hand through Little Cato's crest, fighting the impulse to hold his son close. "Not right now, boy."

"Okay."

Nothing. There was nothing he could do.

The rest of the generals arrived in small groups until thirteen adults and thirteen children stood on the lava flat surrounded by too many guards. The children ranged in age from a little younger than Little Cato's eleven years, all the way up to General Zal's son, who was a young adult and served as one of his aides in the Tera Con army. The generals saluted and kept a respectful distance away from their commander, and Avocato wondered if they were able to sense his unease.

Did they know? Were they complicit with what was planned? Did they care? Was he alone in being left out of the Lord Commander's intent? He knew this night would be a twisted test of obedience and the Lord Commander's notion of loyalty – in other words, blind obedience to every order regardless of the consequences, which were rarely thought through unless Avocato had a chance to point out alternatives. As far as he could, Avocato had given exactly that.

That loyalty had not been in any way returned.

Avocato knew this had to be a strike at him and him only. Everyone else, all those children, were just collateral damage. He alone of the generals had no spouse. He alone had just one child. He was beloved of the rank and file in ways the Lord Commander could never understand or accomplish, leading from the front and getting down in the trenches with his troops. They would follow him through hell. The Lord Commander? Not so much. This whole event was orchestrated to manipulate Avocato into disobedience.

Did the Lord Commander not consider the risk if Avocato obeyed? Didn't he see that Little Cato was what kept Avocato from turning on him?

He did. And damn him, but the Lord Commander knew Avocato would never harm his son.

Gods, times like this, he hated knowing what the future held. Or so he told himself. Sometimes it was infuriatingly useful. Either way, he knew his response to the order would have been the same. What would the Lord Commander do if he knew Avocato had been given a blueprint of the future? By Gary Goodspeed, no less? Not that he knew - or despised - the Gary yet, but he could not help but wonder what the Lord Commander thought of John Goodspeed, his old partner in the Infinity Guard. He must have known about Gary. And what would he say or do if he learned Avocato knew the Lord Commander's carefully hidden history?

Add these to the pile of questions he didn't want the answers to.

It came as no surprise that they were made to wait for the Lord Commander, but Avocato genuinely did not care. He just stood a little removed from the others and endured an eternity in each heartbeat, his unease mounting higher with each passing moment.

And then, _he_ arrived.

General Avocato had served under the Lord Commander for almost a decade - longer than anyone else alive, so far as he knew - and could tell his moods at a glance.

Right now, the Lord Commander was surpassing furious.

Falling back on protocol, Avocato drew himself to attention and bowed, as expected, to the Lord Commander. Behind him, the generals saluted as the children returned to their parent's sides. It tickled the Lord Commander's fancy and fed his ego to have the son of a high-ranking noble such as General Avocato defer to him this way, never realizing Avocato, versed in a lifetime of non-verbal communication, would far sooner bow than salute. Bowing as he did now, with his arms pressed close to his sides and his tail raised, was hardly a bow of respect on Ventrexia. Quite the opposite, though the Lord Commander had never caught on. It was a sign of disdain and aggression.

The Lord Commander wasn't walking, but floating, a sure sign of his displeasure. Avocato knew, had felt, the Lord Commander's telekinetic power, and knew that the strain of using it these past few years was extracting a greater and greater toll on his body and mind to the point where Avocato questioned his emperor's stability. The Lord Commander's normally smooth, gray head was creased and wrinkled, like some shriveled fruit, and his eyes glowed with unnatural light brighter than the lava streams behind him.

The grip on his tail tightened painfully as Little Cato's anxiety spiked. Avocato gave no indication of his discomfort and made no attempt to loosen his son's hold on him as Little Cato edged closer to the shelter of his father's shadow. It wasn't enough. Avocato wasn't enough. No one was. Not against the Lord Commander. As a general and second of the empire, Avocato _had_ power, but the Lord Commander _was_ power.

"You're all here," observed the Lord Commander snidely, that glowing gaze sweeping over them. As he spoke the guards drew in a little closer, effectively cutting off any escape. "I'm glad to see you can at least listen. I've been having my doubts lately. Recent events here on Tera Con Prime have increased tensions in my empire, and I've called you all here for assurance of your loyalty and allegiance."

It felt as if Avocato's heart skipped a beat. Only twenty-plus years of training and discipline kept him still and focused as the Lord Commander swept past where he and Little Cato stood to address the others. The generals had assembled into uneven ranks, each trying to look shorter than their fellows.

"It's a simple test," promised the Lord Commander, his teeth showing in a jagged rictus. "Though failure is not acceptable." He was enjoying this, the confusion and fear he saw on their faces. Positively gloating. Avocato alone did not react, though the Lord Commander, his back to his top commander, did not seem to notice. He gestured, his raspy voice filled with false kindness as he directed, "Children, why don't you all sit down for a moment?"

A few obeyed and Zal's son knelt, but the ground was so hot they ran the risk of being burned. When he saw their hesitation, the Lord Commander frowned and suddenly, with tiny exclamations of surprise and pain, all the children save Little Cato fell to their knees besides their parents. That his son was left standing was all Avocato needed to know he was right in suspecting this was all aimed directly at him. The Lord Commander had something worse in mind for his second-in-command.

"Tell me, General G'guk'o, what is the extent of your loyalty to me?"

"Without measure, Lord Commander!" G'guk'o, the stand-out bootlicker of the pack, immediately declared. For some reason, he bellowed, as if the Lord Commander was deaf. Avocato's disgust at this display equaled G'guk'o's loyalty.

"Glad to hear it," was the sarcastic reply. "Are you ready to prove as much?"

"Always, my lord!"

"And to all of you standing before me feel the same?"

His wording was deliberate and clever. Avocato stood behind him. Were the other generals so blinded by their ambition that they couldn't see how he was manipulating them all?

"We do, Lord Commander!" cried the others.

Yes. Blind and fanatical.

And there was nothing he could do.

The Lord Commander smiled, pretending to be flattered and pleased with such devotion. "Very good. In that case, Generals . . . draw your guns."

Under the watchful eyes of the bodyguards, Avocato waited until the others had obeyed, then drew his snub-nose Ventrex blaster and held it tight to his thigh. It was the last order he would ever take from this monster.

"Now _prove_ your loyalty to me," he hissed, floating higher as his glowing eyes narrowed, "and kill your firstborns."


	5. Lord Commander & Avocato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murder and suicide. Walk away if that's not your bag.

The flows of liquid rock cast lurid light onto the faces of the children pinned before their parents, giving the Lord Commander a full view of their reactions. The younger ones looked confused. The older ones enjoyed a moment of horrified realization. The one in uniform looked utterly betrayed. Their emotions had no impact on him. He drew back, closer to the lava stream, far more interested to see what Avocato would do as two guards stepped up and seized the general's son by the arms. The orange Ventrexian was terrified, too frightened even to struggle or make a sound. He just stared up at his father as he concluded what was about to happen. Avocato had his gun drawn, at least, but not even the Lord Commander could read his expression or guess what his second-in-command might do next as he brought the weapon to bear on the trio before him.

He cast his sharp gaze at the assembled ranks of generals, jolting them to action. What were they waiting for? He'd issued a direct order. As one their voices rang out.

"For eternity! For Lord Commander!"

Twelve shots rang out. Twelve sprays of blood and gore in shades of red and green and blue. Twelve bodies crumpled to the ground. Twelve loyal generals.

What of the thirteenth?

It was silent on the flats save for the quiet rumble of the lava streams and the crackle of fire. A few of the generals were breathing heavily, as if they'd somehow done something strenuous. Before him, Avocato stood rigid, facing down his future . . . or his doom.

Facing down the only hurdle in his path.

He smiled at the heady mix of fire and power and blood. Was this why Avocato loved war so much? For the first time, the Lord Commander understood the appeal.

"Do it, Avocato, and become my first," he commanded, cold and persuasive. It was promise he might even keep. And why not? Once he reached Final Space, what use would a paltry empire be to him? Avocato could have it all, everything he could reach out and take . . . if he would follow this one order. Such a small thing, really, both to do and to lose. Sensing victory, eager for more blood, his voice dropped deeper. _"Do it!"_

Avocato alone of the generals looked his offspring in the face at this moment of execution. The Lord Commander saw Little Cato raise wide eyes to his father, and the intensity of the exchange sent a shiver of pleasure through him. Then the tension in Avocato's body abruptly solidified into fury as the Ventrexian _moved_.

Two shots rang out. The guards dropped, dead before they hit the ground. Released, Little Cato staggered to his knees as Avocato whirled, bringing his blaster to bear on the Lord Commander.

Completely unsurprised, he smiled in triumph. Avocato had made his choice.

A faint push of his mind, and Avocato's gun was shorted out and rendered useless. A little flick, and his wrist was snapped.

"Dad!"

So, the noisy demon child had finally found his voice. Surging upright, Little Cato tried to run to his father's side, too young and stupid to realize he didn't have a chance. He'd taken only a step or two before the Lord Commander made the roots of the ancient forest burst out of the ground and seize him around the waist and legs. When Avocato would have rushed to his child's side, even more vines, heavy and crushing, erupted upwards to strangle him. The Lord Commander allowed the two Ventrexians a few final moments together, Avocato firmly pinned and Little Cato held up to eye level for the Lord Commander to see, well out of range of Avocato's grasp. He rather expected a few last-minute declarations of love and calls for strength and other empty promises, but nothing of the sort came. Despite the one's anger and the other's terror, father and son just looked at each other in silence.

Foolish, stoic Ventrexians. Nauseating species, all in all.

Well, the lack of his hoped-for display was disappointing, but it was fleeting in comparison to what he'd just gained. Things were about to be very different. He moved to hover before Avocato, enjoying the fury and hatred the general had kept in check for so long, enjoying the sight of Avocato _at his feet._

"If I sense doubt in you ever again, remember I own your son," the Lord Commander hissed, every word as sweet as honey. He pointed, tightening the roots. _"And now I own you!"_

Avocato gazed at him with a snarl on his face, but the only sound that escaped him was a deep-throated growl. With a smirk, the Lord Commander gestured sharply.

"Take them!"

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Rough hands yanked him upright, clearly expecting resistance, perhaps even an escape attempt, but he knew fighting now would do nothing to help the situation. He paid the ring of guards around him no mind, all his focus on Little Cato as his son was freed from his bonds. The plant roots fell away, leaving Little Cato shaken but seemingly unhurt as he stumbled to the ground. With a tiny yelp, he instantly tried to reach his father's side. Darting between the much larger guards, he suddenly stood before Avocato, panting and rattled to the core.

"Dad!"

Avocato leaned in close, forehead pressed to forehead in a wordless display of affection. Little Cato stood on his toes to reach, his hands braced on either side of Avocato's face. A tiny, anxious keen reached his ears, and he knew Little Cato was panicking. The guards drew near, reaching, and Avocato quickly whispered, "Remember the rules, Little Cato," as his son was snatched away. A final, frightened nod of understanding, and then his boy was lost to him amidst the crush of bodyguards.

They would not see each other for more than three years.

Belatedly, Avocato became aware of the sharp pain in his forearm and he was reminded that he had broken bones. Pulling free of the guards with a a withering glare, he pushed the brace on his shocktog down a little to support the injury until he could get it treated. Then he drew a deep breath and looked to the tragic scene around him.

The Lord Commander was already heading back to his transport, leaving his subordinates to deal with the aftermath of his whims. A few of the generals had moved away from the carnage they had wrought, but most stood frozen where they had been, splashed with blood and with the shattered bodies of their children sprawled before them. It was as if they could not believe what had happened or what they had done. Even to Avocato, the Master of Death, this didn't seem real.

It was all so damned _pointless_.

Owned him? As if he hadn't before?

Then General Ruarini stepped back and holstered her blaster. "Well," she said in a voice devoid of inflection, looking away from the blood and brains at her hooves, "that's that."

" _That_ was your _son_ ," Avocato reminded her icily.

"That was an order. One you chose to disobey, Avocato," she said, and for the first time since they had met, she failed to use his title, hesitating on just his name. Clearly she considered herself a candidate to replace him. She could have it, as far as he was concerned. It wasn't as if she had the necessary training to run an empire. None of them did.

"The order was illegal, Ruarini," he replied, pushing her disrespect back on her. "We're soldiers, not murderers."

"You're one to lecture us about murder!" snapped Tchop, fury at himself and his own failing finding vent at his commander.

Avocato fixed his gaze on Tchop's center cluster of eyes. "Yes. I am. Especially seeing as how _my_ firstborn is still alive."

To that, they had no answer.

"You have only the one," Cinti said softly, breaking the pain-filled silence.

"Convenient, isn't it?" snapped Avocato through clenched teeth, trying to _will_ them to understand the point of this tragedy.

Ruarini seemed to grasp his meaning first. She stiffened, her curved horns flashing in the uneven light and a deep rumbling sound escaped her. Her eyes narrowed, and she, too, held him responsible for the order. She snapped, "That changes nothing!"

"For you, perhaps," Korku shot back, glaring hard at her. There had never been any love lost between them. "Some of us care for our children."

As one, they all looked to where Zal stood off to one side. He had yet to lower his arm or look away from where his son's blood and brains leaked onto the hot ground. Zal had been immeasurably proud of his eldest and now . . . now it was doubtful the general would ever come to terms with what he had done.

"We did what we had to," Rig tried to reason.

Avocato, still surrounded by the guards, gave Rig an incredulous, disgusted look. "No, you didn't," he said, deliberately using the tone of command that shut down any protest. While he stood before them, he would not let them deny responsibility. Though under arrest, he still exuded more authority and commanded more respect than all of these generals combined. They listened instinctively, cowed by his greater presence. "You're all so damned eager to outdo one another, even in something as reprehensible as this. You had a choice. The same one I did."

Then he let the guards take him away, leaving them with the bodies of their children and their guilt.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Dismissing the carnage left in his wake, the Lord Commander was about to enter his shuttle to return to the capital city when he paused, turning to look behind. Avocato, under heavy guard, was being escorted to the cluster of ships. True to form, his top general was poised and commanding. He had not resisted arrest and even now, was unrestrained. He probably thought putting up a fuss was below his dignity. The Lord Commander gave him a wicked, gloating smile.

"Avocato," he said coldly, deigning to address the rebel and briefly wondering why the Ventrexian didn't have the decency to appear at least a little disgraced. "You disappoint me."

Just barely composed, Avocato looked at him steadily, and replied in a controlled tone, "You're not alone in that sensation, Lord Commander. Where is my son?"

Lord Commander, not his usual 'my lord.' Avocato's meaning was clear, and with a tiny snarl, the Lord Commander indulged in a moment of pettiness and shot a bolt of his anger into Avocato's mind. The general gave a faint twinge, but he couldn't tell if it was because of his little attack or because at that moment, the echo of a single blaster shot reached across the plain.

"You don't make the deman - Now what?" grumbled the Lord Commander, suddenly realizing that if anything _had_ happened, he didn't have Avocato to dump it on and would actually have to deal with it himself. Damnit. Avocato really was an inconsiderate pain.

"Zal," said Avocato, looking back. He sounded absolutely certain. "That was General Zal."

"What?" He looked to Avocato with a frown, only to find the expression being boldly returned. "Zal?"

The captain of the bodyguard hurried over. "Sir! Lord Commander! General Zal just shot himse-"

"I know! Don't interrupt," snapped the Lord Commander, gesturing, completely annoyed that even now, Avocato was still right about . . . everything. The bastard. The captain froze, immobilized.

"You don't see what you've done, do you?" asked Avocato softly, disgust evident on his face. Under normal circumstances, the Lord Commander almost always understood what Avocato was implying when he spoke so obliquely. They had worked together long enough to read one another fairly well. This time, however, he was at something of a loss. Not that he'd ever let on . . . Avocato sounded almost sad. That was surprising, since the Lord Commander knew perfectly well Avocato, son of a noble house and cultural elitist to the core, did not associate with the other generals unless given no choice. And after Avocato, Zal was the most competent of his peers. Avocato himself had suggested Zal as his successor if anything ever happened to him. Well, it had. Only the Lord Commander hadn't looked beyond losing Avocato. That meant there would be no smooth transition of power. It was remarkably selfish of Zal to leave him in this position.

"I've dealt with a problem," he said.

He was confident in those words only until Avocato's yellow eyes widened and he shook his head in disbelief. "Dealt with a problem? You just created one where it didn't exist!"

The frown turned into a glare. No one, not even his second - _former_ second - was allowed to correct him, especially not in front of witnesses. The bolt shot into Avocato's mind became an assault, and he had the satisfaction of seeing the normally stoic Ventrexian gasp in pain and drop to one knee. If he wouldn't give the Lord Commander the satisfaction he looked for, well, he'd just rip it right out of him.

"That's better," he sneered. "You're fortunate I know your worth, Avocato, and that I have plans for you." He looked to the men of his bodyguard. "Take him away!"


	6. Avocato & the Generals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned! More death, murder, and suicide in this chapter.

The guards absolutely did not know what to do with him, never having imprisoned a general before, let alone one they all but worshiped. The prospect of such a high-ranking prisoner intimidated them absolutely, and Avocato, taking pity, found himself walking his captors through parts of his own arrest processing and making sure no corners were cut. For his own sake and safety, he declined their offer of house arrest, reminded them he needed to have his arm treated, and asked them to find out where his son was. They scrambled to obey.

The military doctor who came to attend his broken arm and the lingering headache was the first to offer him aid - escape, uprising, unexplained death - whatever General Avocato might ask. Ever cautious of spies and unwilling to put his son at any greater risk, Avocato politely declined. All he asked was for the doctor to follow orders and do his duty and serve whomever was appointed the next supreme leader. The doctor had been disappointed, but nodded in understanding before he left Avocato in his cell.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_His son. His eldest son. So tall and beautiful and proud to serve under his father! He was the prince of General Zal's family, kind to his siblings, respectful to his parents, a loyal soldier._

_Why had the Lord Commander asked for this? Why ask_ _this_ _to prove Zal's loyalty? Were his years of service not enough?_

_He stared at the broken form at his feet, the uniform darkening as blood seeped through the fabric. Steam rose up in ghostly wisps from the heat of the volcanic streams._

_Dead. His son was dead. An hour ago he had been so alive, so excited to be summoned by the Lord Commander._

_And now he was dead._

_How would Zal ever be able to break this news to his wife? Could he? No. It was impossible. It would destroy her. Bad enough to lose her oldest child, but to know the husband she loved had done it . . . he could never tell her. He looked at the gun still clutched in his hand and decided he never would. It was cowardly, but he was a coward. How had Avocato managed to resist? If he'd had Avocato's strength, Bern would be alive. What was disgrace next to his son's survival?_

_Another shot rang out. Another body crumbled to the ground._

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

His son was being held in Krovan E'en, a distant, high-security prison for dangerous and valuable prisoners. The irony of a harmless child in a maximum-security cell while his father the Master of Death being held in a room no more secure than the closet in his bedroom, was not lost on Avocato as he once again forestalled a deliberate attempt to let him escape by reminding his young guard to activate the force field confining him. He needed to bide his time, knowing his chance to rescue Little Cato would come. In the meantime, he would give them no cause to mistreat his son.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"Where is Chami?"_

_General Ruarini was seated in the darkened dining hall, alone save for ghosts, and refilled her glass of wine before answering her mate. "He's not coming back."_

_"What? What happened? Ruarini!"_

_"I told you. He's not coming back."_

_"Why not?"_

_She was silent, staring into the wine, hoping to drown in it._

_"Why not?"_ _he demanded again, gripping the chair before him._

_Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. "I had to prove my loyalty."_

_"You gave our son to the Lord Commander?"_

_She drank a mouthful of wine before she could even look at him. "He didn't want our son. Just his life."_

_He stared at her in horror and disbelief. "He killed Chami? That miserable little-"_

_"He_ _didn't," she corrected firmly before he could say anything more. Rauarini met her mate's dark eyes, so like her son's, and saw the hatred blossoming there._

_"You?" he demanded. "YOU killed our son?" He stepped back from her. "How is that proof of loyalty and not insanity? Haven't you proved your loyalty with six years of service? Has he no loyalty to you?"_

_She thought of Avocato choosing his son over obedience. Such resolve was enviable. Aloud she said,_

_"I don't know."_

_The next morning, her mate and their two remaining children were gone without a trace. She never saw them again._

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"It's done. We have other children. I'll hear no arguments."_

_She aimed the gun directly at his chest. His own gun. The very one he'd used to kill their eldest hatchling. "You'll hear nothing at all, E'velt," she said, and pulled the trigger._

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

He'd been to Krovan E'en several times in the course of his servitude to the Lord Commander, and it broke Avocato's heart to imagine his bright and beautiful son held in that miserable place. He could only pray that he had armed Little Cato against despair and instilled enough knowledge and spirit to survive. Still, his concern for his son was a good diversion from the gnawing sense of failure and betrayal and . . . was that shame? depression? regret? at his removal. Odd, since he would have gladly walked away , given the chance. Having command taken from him elicited an unexpected reaction. He hadn't felt this sense of helplessness and loss since the day his planet had handed him over to the service of a monster.

But as he looked at his hands and though of the oceans of blood upon them, he couldn't help but wonder who the monster truly was.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_His husband was asleep when General Rig returned home. The next morning, the remaining children were already in school when Bal served him food, then sat down opposite him with his own plate, and a warm smile. Midway through the meal, he felt the first, burning pang in his stomach. Rig knew what would happen, but he continued to eat and drink anyway as his husband watched and smiled. The poison was almost as painful as he deserved._

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"Tchop, where is the first?"_

_"The Lord Commander demanded a sacrifice as proof of allegiance."_

_Her eyes narrowed sharply. One look was all it took to confirm his words. She shook her head and sighed, annoyed._

_"Next time, take the third. She's not of much use."_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"Chorpin?"_

_"Avocato has been arrested for treason. The fall of Tera Con is starting."_

_"Was the sacrifice deemed acceptable?" she asked carefully. The plan to substitute their firstborn with one of the younger-looking servants had been hers, though they both stood to lose all if anyone ever found out they had deliberately deceived the Lord Commander. Her suspicions had paid off._

_"Yes. No one suspected it was not our eldest. And as promised, we will raise his children as our own."_

_She nodded her agreement. "We are prepared. I'll wake the children."_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

As Avocato sat quietly in a cell, he processed through the sense of guilt and obligation that filled him, and wondered what the other generals had done since he'd been arrested. How did anyone inform their spouse they had just executed the oldest child to satisfy the whim of a madman? He shuddered, not even trying to imagine the scene at the lava flats as the remaining eleven lieutenant generals in the Lord Commander's service were faced with the gruesome task of transporting their children's bodies back home.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_General Vos' wife had somehow had gotten word of what she had done before she arrived at their quarters. A colonel in charge of the army's elite strike teams, she was a crack shot and utterly ruthless. She had also adored their tall and beautiful daughter._

_She let her see the gun and her intent before she shot Vos between the eyes._

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"Shooripy, with Avocato and Zal out of the way, that makes you third in seniority behind Raurini and Cinti. I doubt the Lord Commander will put Ruarini in Avocato's position as second in the empire. He doesn't like her, especially since she miscalculated during the invasion at Alpha Zorint. And Cinti, well, he hasn't got your nerve. And either might have a mishap."_

_"They cannot be assassinated, woman! You know the consequences!"_

_"Ruarini is living proof that mishaps don't have to be fatal, Shooripy."_

_He stared at her in disblief. "Do you even care our daughter is dead? Do you even care it was me who killed her?"_

_She shrugged. "We have others."_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

They would say they had followed the order given, legal or not. Who was he to blame them, really, given some of the orders he had carried out over the past decade? Perhaps he had gotten too good at deferring responsibility in the course of 'following orders.' Long ago he had learned to bury his feelings, to lock them away unexamined and undisturbed until he was little more than an emotional wasteland. The only source of light and warmth had been Little Cato, and there was precious little of even him. Some things were simply too great to comprehend: Tryvuul, the destruction of the _Silverwing_ , losing Purrsis, taking command of the Tera Con military, the _Kalibar_ , the annihilation of Scotia, on and on for years, to the destruction of Kanopis Prime just over a year ago. So many sins locked away. He dared not open that door. He did not want to see the litany of his deeds because there was no way to ever make up for it . . . even if he wanted to or felt he deserved such a chance.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"Korku, I've appealed to my parents and the temple at o'Tozz. We'll be divorced before I reach Orn. The children are coming with me. You will not contact them or me."_

_"I'll contest nothing."_

_"Why, Korku? Why?_

_For all he was a fleet general, he could not meet her eyes. "I didn't know how to refuse."_

_"Avocato did!"_

_"And where is he now?"_

_"Does it matter? I only know he's not transporting his son's body back to Ventrexia for burial!"_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"You will never have a chance to do this to your offspring again, na-Toori."_

_Ten dark forms surrounded its spouse. All their children dead. Poisoned._

_"What have you done?" breathed General Toori._

_"I finished what you started. Are you satisfied yet?"_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

He knew what would happen next. The Tera Con Empire would decay. Not all at once, and not quickly to start, but like cancer spreading through a body, territory and authority would be lost in bits and pieces, gaining momentum until nothing but a shamble was left. Rebellion would foment, first in the outer territories, then in the harder-won systems like Sitronu or Tryvuul, until a faction arose strong enough to take over. It was no less than the Lord Commander deserved. All that work, all those deaths and machines, for nothing. It wasn't arrogance that made him draw this conclusion, but history. None of the lieutenant generals had the insight or experience to hold together so vast a territory, there was no viable heir, and the Lord Commander would abandon all as soon as he could reach Final Space to embrace whatever strange destiny he thought awaited him there.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"Chipikonicheku, do you think he'd promote you Avocato's position if you killed the rest?"_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"Where is our prime, my lord? It's past his time to sleep."_

_She was the secondary mate of General Cinti, but had birthed a child first, elevating her status and that of her clan and assuring her position. She was fortunate in that the primary mate had never been unkind to her or her child, even when the primary had birthed children of her own. Her child, a male, heir of the house's honor, was her whole world. Without him, she had no status or respect. She loved him, doted on him, planned a glorious future for him. And now, as his mother, she worried for him._

_"Is something wrong, my lord? You seem unwell."_

_"The prime will not be returning."_

_"My lord?"_

_"The prime is dead, Koov."_

_She blinked, not understanding. "No. I saw him after school. He is fine."_

_"Koov," Cinti said, his voice gentler than she had ever heard before, "the prime is dead. Our firstborn is dead."_

_There was a long pause of pure disbelief, and he saw the moment that her mind snapped._

_"He was with you," she insisted, as if he was teasing her. "When will he return?"_

_Cinti stared at her for a long, sorrowful moment. "Tomorrow, Koov. He'll be home tomorrow."_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

And now it was over, at least for him. He had done his duty, bitter as it had been, and he had not turned on his leader before his leader turned on him.

As far as Avocato was concerned, the whole empire could burn.

And without him, he knew it would.


	7. LC & LC

So many things had happened in rapid, dizzying progression that Little Cato's mind was awhirl long after the shuttle holding him and what looked like an entire platoon of guards took off from Tera Con Prime. He had so much to think about that for the longest time, all he could do was be still and quiet as he puzzled over the shocking series of events. An hour or more must have passed before he realized they should have landed already. Looking out the small windows, he could see no sign of the boring planet, its broken moon, or unremarkable stars.

"Hey." He addressed the nearest guard, doing his best to be commanding and adorable at once so he could get some answers. "Where are we going?"

The guard, who actually wasn't a bad sort and saw the advantage of keeping the _extremely valuable_ prisoner calm, gave a little snort and said, "Your new home, kid."

"My new – what? I'm not moving."

"Tell that to the Lord Commander."

He frowned, having no answer to that statement. Clearly it was time to apply Rule #1 and start gathering information.

So he shut up and watched and listened. Intently.

Luckily for him, he was the only person of interest on the shuttle, and these guards knew better than to harm one of the Lord Commander's prisoners, let alone General Avocato's son. Safely strapped into an oversized seat – the shuttle was clearly not designed with children in mind – Little Cato did his best to disappear from sight and mind, giving them absolutely nothing to worry about and being a model captive. That meant the guards were bored silly and they relaxed quickly. That also meant they spent the whole trip talking, and in just a few hours, Little Cato had the whole story.

His father had been arrested for treason. He wasn't certain of the whole depth and breadth of the word, but he knew it was big and bad and somehow Dad was in a lot of trouble for not shooting him. As if they were afraid of anyone overhearing, the guards spoke with hushed awe, clearly impressed. Confident that there was no force in the universe that could make General Avocato do something he didn't want to, Little Cato felt a surge of pride that his father would dare to act so dangerously and defiantly.

He learned, too, that the high command of the Tera Con military was in total chaos, and some of the generals were dead. More reports came in over the course of the flight, reports of murder and revenge and suicide. He wondered if the Lord Commander would have given his generals an order so unnatural as to kill their own children if he'd known the upshot of his decisions.

_"Bad generals," his father had said one day as he prepared for a two-month deployment, "are as easy to come by as flash fleas on the beach. Good ones are rarer than Zargon blue pearls."_

_"How many good generals do you know?" challenged Little Cato, fetching his dad's space helmet._

_Avocato smiled faintly as he lifted the weighty piece of equipment and Little Cato with it. "Just the one."_

Enveloped in his flight chair, Little Cato blinked, appreciating only now that his father, though teasing, had been referring to himself. _He_ was the good general. And he was. The only good one. The only one willing to risk his life not to have to shoot his own kid. He thought about Bimi and realized his classmate was dead. Gone. Just like that. He hoped her death hadn't been painful. Well, more painful. What could be worse than knowing your parent valued you less than their job?

He had that. His dad had never _said_ he loved Little Cato, but even he had to acknowledge Avocato wasn't much of a talker. He was definitely a man of action.

It still would have been nice to hear, though. Even once. Just to have the memory.

But he was alive and his dad was under arrest because of that. Because of love. Pretty impressive, actually. It said a lot about the generals. All of them, his father included. And much as he was worried and lonely and maybe a tad scared, Little Cato felt a surge of affection for his sire.

"Okay if I go use the refresher?" he asked the guard who'd first addressed him, keeping his tone polite and his expression innocent. His father had told him more than once that good manners and respect went far with the rank-and-file soldiers.

The guard looked over, only then remembering him. "Sure, kid, but I'm waiting outside the door."

"Okay," he agreed readily. "I might be a few minutes. I want to clean up."

Alone in the refresher, he gave himself a good, hard shake to fluff up his fur and loosen the ground-in dirt from the tree roots. He shook out his clothes and washed some stains from his tunic. Holding up the yellow shirt, Little Cato was suddenly glad to have worn this outfit. It was versatile and reminded him of home and his family.

But . . . what had his dad said when he told Little Cato to go change out of the jumper? _We'd best be ready for anything_. Why? Had he known something would happen? Was that why he'd been so out of sorts and distracted? He wanted Little Cato to wear something rated for space. He wanted him to wear jet boots. And after a moment of surprise at the new clothes, he'd been satisfied.

There was something there. His dad knew something. His dad. Avocato. The good general. The planner. The one who had taught him so many cool things . . .

He stared at the yellow tunic, his mind buzzing as if a swarm of briz bees had replaced his thoughts.

Had his father known something like this would happen? How had he known? Did he know what the generals would do? Did that mean all the crazy stuff Little Cato knew about - engine repair? Hacking an Incinerator's security system? Really? - was for a real reason and not because his dad was reliving his childhood through Little Cato? If that was the case, then all the crazy was actually . . . relevant. It was armor. Weapons, even. His father, a Ventrexian Warlord, had quietly handed him the means to defend himself against their enemies. Because they had enemies. Plenty of them. His dad was under arrest. He was being held hostage. And the Lord Commander probably thought he'd won.

Clearly he didn't know Ventrexians very well at all.

"You gonna be all day?" called the guard through the door.

"Just a minute," he answered, not wanting to antagonize the man. He had to pick his battles with care. Shrugging the tunic back on, he donned the belt and cross-belt before taking a moment to look at himself in the mirror. His dad had often said Little Cato was the image of Purrsis, his mother. Until this moment, he hadn't really cared to hear that, being far more impressed with his sire's accomplishments and wishing he at least had his dad's odd coloring, or maybe his height. Gazing into his own eyes, Little Cato was reminded that his mother's bravery had been of the highest caliber. A brilliant textile engineer, she had married his father before she knew much more about him than his name and title. She had sent her husband off to war time and again. She had sacrificed herself trying to bring more life into being. She had been his father's gentle, quiet strength, and he had loved her absolutely. Purrsis had gone into battle the same as Avocato, just on a different front. And he, Little Cato, was her son just as much as he was the son of a warlord.

He would be worthy of them both, Avocato and Purrsis.

It wouldn't be easy, whatever was coming, but he had armor and his father's promise to find him. He had his mother's courage and his own wits. No way were they going to lose to that psycho pile of worm droppings back on Tera Con Prime. Swiping his hand through his crest of blue hair, Little Cato gave himself a little nod of reassurance before opening the door.

A day and two really crappy meals later, Little Cato stood in a round, high-ceilinged cell made of dull gray material sitting in the heart of the maximum-security prison of Krovan E'en. There was a bunk and toilet and sink and not much else.

"Okay, kiddo. Behave and it won't be so bad," cautioned the guard.

Bad? This had to be the most boring room in existence. "Can't get worse than this cell."

The guard chuckled, then confided, "Actually, it can."

As a force field activated over the door, Little Cato called,

"Tell the Lord Commander his interior decorator sucks!"

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"L-lord Commander, sir?"

Annoyed at being interrupted from the very important task of deciding which biscuit he wanted to eat first, he impatiently demanded, "What is it this time, Eric?"

His reaction cowed the latest Eric, who plucked up enough verve to say, "Sir . . . I'm sorry to report that there have been . . . issues with your-your generals, sir."

The Lord Commander paused, displeased by this announcement. Whatever happened to the days of decent help? "What?"

"A-All your top generals, sir, have . . . they . . ."

"Get to the point."

Eric was trembling so hard he could barely stand. "Sir . . . Generals Zal, Vos, Rig, and E'velt are all dead. Zal committed suicide, of course, an-and the others were killed by their spouses. Generals Ruarini, Korku, and G'guk'o report their spouses have left them. General Toori's spouse poisoned all their children and itself. General Cinti's secondary mate seems to have lost her mind. General Chorpin and his remaining family and immediate staff have vanished from their estate without a trace. General Shooripy has had his wife placed under arrest for plotting against General Ruarini's life." He swallowed, not daring to raise his gaze even a micron. "General Chipikonicheku has asked that formal charges of cowardice and treason be leveled at Generals Zal, Vos, Rig, E'velt, Cinti, Chorpin, Ruarini, and Avocato."

He stared, dumbfounded, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. "Seriously?"

"A-and-"

"There's more?" demanded the Lord Commander in disbelief. Was he running a daycare or an empire?

Eric bit his lip, nodding.

"Fine," he grumbled, waving him on. "Tell me the rest."

"General Toori demanded entry to General Avocato's office at fleet headquarters," squeaked Eric. "It reports that General Avocato's collection of weapons is gone."

He wondered what Toori's point was as he recalled Avocato's office and the outstanding display of swords and weapons from across the galaxy decorating the walls. It had been excessive, but impressive. The Ventrexian had more taste than sense. If the collection was Avocato's, he could dispose of it as he liked, no? That was how these things worked. He'd just proven as much. More than likely, Toori had wanted the weapons for itself. "Is that significant?"

"I – I don't know the answer to that, my lord. General Toori stated it gave General Avocato a very valuable sword that was part of the spoils from Borgu. Perhaps it wanted the sword back."

He let out a little grumble, refusing to get a headache over this squabbling.

"A-and –"

"Whaaaaaaaaat?"

"All seven remaining generals have applied to take over General Avocato's mansion."

Carrion eaters, every one of them. Was this typical? Could refereeing among these so-called officers actually be part of Avocato's day-to-day responsibilities? Dealing with . . . children in uniform? Clearly he'd underestimated – and underpaid – Avocato. The Ventrexian must have dealt with all of this petty snipping – or, more likely, wouldn't tolerate it - because it was the first time the Lord Commander had been confronted with dissension in the ranks. Small wonder Avocato was always looking to get away from the capital.

"Anything else?" he demanded, not really interested.

Eric swallowed, not looking at him. "Yes, Lord Commander. General Korku has a petition to standardize uniforms and relax the present rules about the wearing of military decorations. General Tchop is suing General Zal's estate and General Cinti for what he claims as libel in their blocking his application for the silver Zorini Medal of Courage. He also tried to sue General Avocato's estate, but apparently . . . the general has no estate."

"Enough, Eric. How can seven people cause so much trouble in less than a week? Don't answer that," he snapped when Eric opened his mouth. "Go get me something hot to drink and then have Avocato brought here immediately."

"A-Avocato?" squeaked Eric.

"Immediately," he replied, in no mood. Eric fled, returning in moments with a steaming cup of tea before racing off to have Avocato hustled out of . . . wherever he was being held. The Lord Commander couldn't remember specifying where the former general be housed, and if Avocato had ended up off planet, he was in for a long wait.

His biscuit break disrupted beyond recovery after learning what a pack of juvenile delinquents were in his employ, the Lord Commander took his tea and made his way to his throne room, seething every step of the way. It was cold and dark in the vast room and he may as well have been sitting on a block of ice. What made him think a stone throne would somehow be impressive? It was hard and uncomfortable and his ass was freezing.

The tea was long gone and he was bored silly by the time half a dozen of his bodyguards brought Avocato. He was annoyed to see the former general was still in uniform, though he'd removed his rank insignia. The Lord Commander waved the guards away, not wanting eavesdroppers or rumors to spread of this interview. He knew Avocato wouldn't hurt him. Not while he had the child.

There was no bow. No deference. No defiance, either, just a soldier standing before him, waiting silently and casting a long, long shadow all the way to the foot of the throne.

"Avocato."

"Lord Commander."

"Tell me why."

With his hands behind his back, Avocato stared straight ahead, looking right through the emperor and at the wall beyond the throne. "How would taking the life of my only child be greater proof of my allegiance to you than what I did at Crosus Minor? At Ziga Turi? Scotia? Beta Altrusi? The Ptaureen Nebula? At Kanopis Prime?"

All of the battles he mentioned were massacres. Successes all, but the death counts had been astronomical, mostly on the other side. There was no denying Avocato, awash in an ocean of blood, had earned his title of Master of Death. He had earned the hate and fear of billions. It never really before registered with the Lord Commander that there was a price attached to these victories - a price Avocato would pay forever.

He shrugged. "What's one more after all that?"

"One too many," Avocato replied, finally looking at him. "And what of your loyalty to your generals?"

"Generals?" he quoted in disgust, avoiding the challenge entirely. "More like overgrown children! And _they_ at least followed orders."

"To their regret, if I understand aright."

He glared, tempted to level him with a jolt to the brain, but he didn't want to waste the energy. He was still recovering from the strain of that night at the observatory. Besides, the son of a bitch was, as always, correct.

"Have they always been so childish?" he demanded abruptly.

"Your generals?" Avocato arched an eyebrow in amused query, a touch of emphasis on that 'your.' "Let me guess . . . Chipikonicheku wants everyone but himself brought up on charges. Korku is maneuvering to wear every medal and ribbon he's ever been awarded since he became a Junior Space Scout, and Tchop is suing everyone with less seniority than him."

"Including you."

Avocato made a face, supremely unimpressed. "Not the first time he's tried."

"I wasn't aware they were so . . ."

"Petty?" provided Avocato. "They're jealous, ambitious and small-minded. I kept them in line because I didn't think it was your job to deal with all their little squabbles. Now they're off their leashes."

 _Have fun without me_ was heavily implied, though Avocato's expression had reverted to his usual bland mask.

Indulging in another glare, the Lord Commander grumbled, "The question remains of what I'm going to do with you. I'm half tempted to put you back where you were." That would at least put a buffer between him and the overgrown children.

"Don't," warned Avocato. "They'll turn."

"On you?"

"And you."

He'd suspected as much, but to hear it from someone who knew them drove the message home.

"And who would win in the end?" he demanded, annoyed that he actually respected Avocato's opinion on this even though he expected to hear exactly what he wanted.

"You would," said the Ventrexian without a hint of hesitation. He looked the Lord Commander in the eyes. "But it wouldn't be worth the energy."

Well, he didn't want to hear _that_. So, Avocato knew. Knew and had kept his silence. That left the disturbing question of _what else did he know?_

Sitting back on his rock-hard, ass-freezing throne, the Lord Commander reminded himself that it didn't matter so long as he had Avocato's son. "I could throw you in prison or have you executed."

"You could," admitted Avocato, "but that would be a waste of resources."

"Agreed," he said, feeling a shift as he regained control of the exchange. "And now you have every reason to want me to stay in power."

"You're not the one I ever wanted out of power."

He smirked, getting his meaning. "Then you must be very happy now, Avocato."

"I will be when I get my son back. So, what do I have to do?"

Annoyed that Avocato had cut to the chase first, he pushed a button on the arm of the throne, intending to pull up the data file he wanted. Instead of the holo-image he wanted to project in the air before Avocato, soothing music began playing.

"Damn," he muttered, trying another button.

"Catering," said a deep voice over the intercom.

Knowing this could drag out all day, Avocato resisted the urge to shake his head and said, "I think you want the yellow button."

"I know that." He stabbed the yellow button, aggravated. A computer image of an adorably round green blob with large eyes and little feet appeared in the air between them. "E35-1."

"I read the file on it when it first arrived here."

"Of course you did. I want it back. Intact."

"It's intelligent and extremely powerful. It will take time to track it down," the Ventrexian said shrewdly.

"Then I suggest you get started."

Avocato looked at him squarely. "And you'll release my son?"

"Bring E35-1 back, and we'll talk."

A glower. Avocato knew better than to trust him. Just as he knew not to trust Avocato where his son was involved. With a pleased smirk, he reached for the comm unit to call the guards.

"Catering," said the same deep voice as before.

Giving up, the Lord Commander shouted, "Guards!"

The burly troops bustled into the room, gung-ho and ready to trounce. If they were disappointed at the lack of action, they gave no sign. He waved at the former general dismissively.

"Avocato is free to walk out. He has my permission to leave Tera Con Prime."

"I can't wear this uniform," Avocato said. "I need to visit my quarters one last time."

"Fine. Whatever. Escort him home. Just get him out of my sight."

His bodyguards were confused, but he didn't care. He watched Avocato walk out of the throne room with his dignity miraculously still intact. He had the sinking feeling that somehow, despite appearances, he wasn't the victor of this little sparring match. He might have the upper hand, but Avocato knew about his powers and what they were doing to him. Bastard.

What else did he know?

"Eric!"

"Yes, Lord Commander?"

"Give the order for Avocato's son to be moved to Serida II. He's to be held under the same conditions as he is now."

"Yes, Lord Commander."

"And Eric! Remind them I'll be pissed off if _anything_ happens to him."

Eric bowed deeply. "Understood, Lord Commander."

If nothing else, today had taught him the true qualities of the generals in his employ. _All_ of them. While the seven still in uniform may be petty and childish when unleashed, Avocato would be perfectly savage.

Little Cato had been the only thing between Avocato and an empire. Now he was the only thing between Avocato and the Lord Commander.


	8. Avocato & Clarence

He had everything prepared. Wasn't he renowned for his planning skills and running every calculation before a battle? His weapons were stashed away in caches scattered through several systems. Anything he owned and valued had been removed from the mansion over the course of the last six months and had been shipped to his mother on Ventrexia, all the way down to the artwork Little Cato had produced over the years. Just a handful of things remained to be retrieved.

The housekeeper and valet met him at the recently repaired front door with anxious expressions as he entered the mansion for the last time. Though technically military contractors, they had both grown very fond of Avocato and his energetic son over the years, and had proven themselves trustworthy despite the fact both were expected to spy on him for the Lord Commander.

"General," said the housekeeper, a middle-aged Hooblot who mothered everyone who walked through the door, "we've heard the most awful rumors about the children!"

"Probably true," Avocato replied, letting her take his hand. He gave her fingers a little squeeze of assurance. "I stand accused of treason and have been exiled."

"Master Cato?" breathed the valet, his concern genuine.

"He's alive. A hostage against my good conduct, but he's safe. I haven't got much time, but let me warn you: the remaining generals will be fighting for seniority and this mansion. It's an important status symbol to them, especially since I'm supposedly disgraced. It hasn't been reassigned yet, so no one but you two is allowed to step foot in here without clearance from the Lord Commander. If you stay, whoever gets assigned here will probably insist you tell them everything you've learned about me and my habits and techniques over the years. I won't fault you if you stay, but if you don't want to deal with that, I suggest you apply for transfers immediately. Otherwise, if asked, just tell the truth."

They nodded, and he knew neither would betray him.

"I need a few minutes to change out of this uniform. I promise I won't take anything that isn't mine, and anything I've left behind, you can have."

Again, they nodded, more than a little stunned.

He took the stairs three at a time to reach his bedroom suite, unfastening his long coat as he went. Once there, he quickly shed the uniform for the outfit that had been waiting for months in his closet: his old Ventrexian battle armor. Plain and comfortable and functional, he had worn this suit for years, and it was rated for space, water, poisonous atmospheres, and extreme temperatures. He kept the uniform boots, and quickly transferred the wrist guards with all their equipment from his uniform to his arms. He had guns and holster ready, weapons identical to the one he'd lost a week ago, the snub-nosed blasters that were as familiar as old friends. His old pack he'd carried when he was captain of the _Silverwing_ was on the floor of the closet, filled with a few items he'd need - tools and money, a few articles of clothing, and the holo of Purrsis and Little Cato among other things. From a side pocket of the pack he pulled a long, wide-bladed knife - the same one he'd acquired one rainy night on Zee Secundus. He drew it partially from its sheath to look at the dull metal, and he could not help but recall Gary saying, _"I know for a fact, you're going to want that stabber."_ The memory of his unexpected but oddly endearing husband brought a small smile to Avocato's face. As he slid the blade into his boot, he could not help but feel a swell of optimism, hope even, that things would work out, that this was the right course of action and he'd be reunited with his family. He already knew it wouldn't be the reunion longed for, but it would be a start.

Double checking to be sure he had everything he intended to take along, Avocato cast a final look around the room. He wouldn't be sorry to leave this place, this existence behind him. He hated Tera Con Prime almost as much as he hated the predominant architecture of the place. He had hated his life and himself. Now, as he shrugged the pack over one shoulder, despite the weight of it, he felt his burdens vanish. For the first time in years, Avocato was a step closer to being free.

When he came back downstairs, the servants were there to greet him again. The housekeeper had a container in her hands which she held out hesitantly.

"I packed you some food, sir. Enough for a few days."

He thanked her warmly for the gesture and slid the heavy container into his pack before thanking them both for their service.

"Your service has been outstanding, and I wish there was more I could do for you."

They shook their heads, insisting he and Little Cato were pleasures to work for and this had been the best job either had ever held.

"Will you go back to Ventrexia?" wondered the valet.

"No. Don't worry for me. I'll be fine."

And he would be. Better than he'd been years, but not as good as he'd be in three years.

He left by the underground service entrance where deliveries were brought, slipping easily into the perpetual dusk of Tera Con Prime. He knew exactly where he was going, but he wasn't sure of the reception he'd receive.

It took almost two hours of careful maneuvering to find the little shop. On the surface, it was for buying and selling rare and valuable artifacts, antiquities and unwanted heirlooms. Doodads, he called them. Silly word. That some of those items had been banned, dangerous, or of dubious origin had not been lost on General Avocato, but he had chosen to turn a blind eye to the dealings of Clarence Polkawitz for a very good reason.

He waited until it was just before closing time to enter the shop. Busy at a computer terminal, Clarence didn't look up, and Avocato took a moment to study him. Foogs were generally considered an aesthetically unappealing race, but Avocato just thought they all looked like upright Ventrexian burrowing moles. He had not gotten a good look at Clarence on Zee Secundus when he'd helped him escape the slavers holding Little Cato and had only seen him once since, but to Avocato's inexpert eye, he seemed to be doing well by himself. Though plain, his clothes were expertly tailored, and his gray skin was glossy and smooth.

"I'm closing momentarily," he called.

Avocato said nothing. He just walked further into the shop until he was at the counter. The Foog kept at his work, not glancing up.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yes," he said. "I need a ship."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

He had to admit, over the past seven years, he had made a tidy little life for himself with a tidy-but-not-so-big-as-he'd-like nest egg to see him through. Of course, there was money to be made in rarities and helping fussy and stupidly-rich collectors add to their collections. He had built a good reputation for being able to find things like a Zimbidi leech or angel powder with no questions asked. So long as people could meet his prices, he didn't want to know.

But he knew his skills were being wasted. This place, though lucrative, was small scale. He knew he was so much more. He knew his skills were needed. It was a calling, _his_ calling. He just needed the right tip, the right rumor or shred of information, to really make his way in the galaxy. Still, his little shop was not so bad. Indeed, it was a marvelous front, and he had many contacts and backdoor dealers available.

He wasn't sure why Avocato - he knew now that it had been the general himself in that warehouse in Geegua Spaceport - had helped him escape from the slavers. He had no reason to, being there on a mission of his own. Kindness did not suit his public profile at all, but then, neither did concern. Not having any children, Clarence supposed they were of some value (beyond market value, of course), at least some of them to their parents, anyway. But not only had he cleared the way of sentries guarding the warehouse, Avocato had given Clarence his flashlight - a slick piece of Ventrexian tech and clearly very high end. Clarence had managed to sell it, stole it back, then sold it again for more in order to buy passage on a freighter slated to make a run to Tera Con Prime. Capital cities were always busy and rolling in cash. It was ripe for the plucking. it was also as far away from Zee Secundus as his funds would take him, and that with working on the ship the whole voyage.

And then, a miracle. Avocato had not been done with him, and it made all the difference in Clarence's future. With a blockade around Zee Secundus, Avocato had allowed the freighter transporting Clarence to leave when the whole system was shut off. It was made perfectly clear to the captain that his passenger was an extremely important individual and should be afforded every privilege. Clarence found himself shifted from sleeping in the crew's quarters when they were on duty to a private room with the officers and invitations to dine with the captain. His fee for the trip was refunded, decent clothing was provided, and the trip quickly morphed from an escape to something just short of a pleasure cruise. Though a bit on the rough side, the ship was infinitely better than a cell in the hold of the _Degune,_ and not having to work the whole way gave him time to recover some weight and health. After implying that he was a businessman and Avocato was indebted to him for reasons he could not list for the sake of discretion, the captain became his first contact for his exotic imports and doodads business. The captain happened to have two full trays of authentic Borliun pleasure crystals he wanted to move before returning to his home world. Clarence had them sold the day they docked at Tera Con Prime. And he didn't resort to the underworld. Oh, no, he found the best brothel in Tera Con Prime, said he was authorized to give three free samples for testing, and left with his pockets full of cash and an order for more for the captain's next run.

Avocato must have had Clarence's name flagged, because his application for a business license was approved at record speed, and the background check had been nominal at best - a uniformed official met with him, asked if his race had pulses, asked if he one, received an affirmative reply, and as simple as that, Clarence was in business.

He suspected that someday, somehow, Avocato would expect to be repaid. Oddly, it didn't bother him so much. He _did_ owe the general a great deal. This was one of those extremely rare occasions in Clarence's life that he didn't mind being indebted to someone and would actually be true to his word to repay the favor so long as he wasn't _too_ inconvenienced. Avocato had, quite literally, saved his hide: The Delgan first mate of Korg's crew had worn Foog-hide boots that were in a sorry state of repair. He had been eyeing Clarence for weeks and his intent was unmistakable. So while it may prove to be awkward down the road, Clarence's hide was intact and his gratitude to the general was genuine.

The shop had been busy from the start. Tera Con Prime had very strict rules, but it was hungry for what Clarence had to offer - which was anything they wanted – and it was a simple task to circumvent the rules. He had a network of contacts, buyers and sellers, discreet means of communication, and he was left fairly well alone by the authorities, some of whom were his clientele. He still gave in to the impulse to go scrounging through people's trash and rubbish tips now and then – he'd been poor and enslaved too long to ever completely get over the drive to take anything offered for free, and at times it _did_ feel good to get his hands dirty – and it amazed him what people simply threw out when they had a lot of money. He could have made a decent living just picking through garbage here in the capital.

But he was capable of so much more.

He'd been in Avocato's presence exactly once since Zee Secundus, on the day he brought the dimensional key to the Lord Commander's citadel. If Clarence had thought the pretty little trinket he'd sold to the Lord Commander would open doors, he was doomed to disappointment. That had not panned out as he'd hoped. After a quick thanks, a transfer of money, the door was slammed in his face. He quickly realized the Lord Commander was not the safest route to go anyway and simply did his best to stay on friendly terms with the little tyrant.

But it had allowed him to see the general who for some reason had helped him time and again.

Tall, imposing, and about as warm as winter on Ith, Avocato had been flanked by his equally cuddly Ventrexian aide-de-camp Colonel Nikos and a few of his generals – an impenetrable, imperturbable wall of khaki uniforms where people like Clarence Polkawitz were barely tolerated. Clarence had been introduced in passing, but Avocato had looked right through him. Clarence took his cue from that and said nothing. Ventrexians were known cultural snobs, an ancient warrior race who held themselves proud and aloof, and the teal soldier looking down at him was not only the son of a noble family, but the second-most-powerful being in the universe. General Avocato was the terror of the galaxy, truly the stuff of nightmares, and he had earned his nickname the Master of Death. It seemed a bit at odds with the impression he'd gotten at Geegua Spaceport. _That_ Avocato had been a loving father searching for his son. It made Clarence wonder what he'd done to the crew of the _Degune_. Something brutal, surely, and well-deserved. Soon after his return to authority, Avocato had shut down the slaver syndicate all the way up to Saa-en-Tigool himself and threatened the princes of Calist who supported and profited off of slavery. Ships were impounded, crews arrested, and living cargo freed throughout the empire all the way to the galactic core. Calist's economy was so irreparably disrupted it collapsed, and a slave uprising wiped out those who had been in charge.

All those fortunes lost, all those lives changed, because slavers had dared to take his child.

Avocato was truly a man to be feared.

And then he showed up at Clarence's shop.

"Can I help you with something?" Last-minute shoppers sometimes thought they could strike a good, quick bargain, but this consumer had come into the wrong den for that.

"Yes. I need a ship."

That voice. Deep. Commanding. Familiar. He knew who he'd see before he looked up. Still, Clarence blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

He was treated to an amused smirk as the general repeated, "I need a ship. A one- or two-man fighter. Something older is fine so long as it's in decent shape and can't be traced."

"General Avocato!" he sputtered, all dignity lost. "W-What are you doing in my shop? What makes you think I can get you a ship like that?"

He counted off on his fingers. "One, you can drop the general, Clarence. Two, calling in a favor. Three, I know exactly what you're capable of getting and I've allowed you to set up your business undisturbed and unaudited for this very reason."

Clarence sat back, thinking hard and fast. Then he hopped off his seat and hurried to the door, locking it and activating the security system that darkened the windows. He looked at Avocato, tall and rangy and alert, waiting patiently at the counter. By the time he climbed back into his seat, Clarence had resolved to help. Not only did he owe Avocato, but there was some tantalizing gossip to be had here. Also, he'd just locked himself in with a known killer, so he really didn't have much choice. In the end, though, he had no reason to distrust the general.

"So . . . what really brings you to my little shop of doodads?"

He gave a little snort at the word, and Clarence formed the disturbing image of the Master of Death laughing.

"I've been tasked with retrieving the creature that escaped the Lord Commander's monstertorium the same day the high security vault was broken into. I'm in exile and my son's a hostage until I get E35-1 back. To do that, I need a ship."

"Untraceable? That won't come cheap."

"I know."

"Why?" He gestured at Avocato, out of uniform and holding his old pack. It was a broad question, but one of genuine curiosity for someone who had been Clarence's benefactor.

"He wanted me to kill my son."

Even he knew what the upshot of that order would be. "He underestimated you. That was a poorly-planned move."

"I can't argue."

"He doesn't appreciate the value you place on your child."

"Not at all. He just sees children as tools. But they're fun. And useful. You should get a few."

It was Clarence's turn to snort. "I'll think about it from the safety of my bachelor's pad. A fighter . . . not Tera Con?"

"Or Infinity Guard. I know somebody who took out ninety-two of their cruisers and a small restaurant with one shot."

"That's good shooting."

"That's crap shielding. He wasn't even trying."

He made a little sound of disgusted agreement. "How about something Ventrexian? The price might go up a bit, but the quality will be there. Plus, it's something that should be familiar to you."

"That'll work if it's Ventrexian from bow to stern. I'm prepared to pay a reasonable price, but I think you'll be very interested in my currency."

Now he was intrigued. "Oh? Some more Ventrexian tech I can sell?"

"Much better than that." He reached into a pouch on his belt and produced a data chip. "Isolate your computer from the net and plug that in."

He obeyed. It was information. Avocato knew his weakness: data. It was highly secret, highly sensitive. Bank accounts, debts owed, loans, bids for construction jobs, sealed reports of scandals, unclaimed inheritances, real estate on the cheap, ore-rich asteroids begging to be claimed and mined, military surplus for sale and a list of planetary systems desperate for supplies of all sorts, monarchies on the brink of collapse. File after file of priceless information only someone as highly placed as General Avocato could have compiled and copied. For Clarence, it was a veritable gold mine. The deals he could make. The blackmail, the exploitation . . .

"I have two more data chips."

That did it. He was salivating. Just this quick glance, and he saw millions he could easily sweep into his coffers. He would get coffers. For the first time in his life, he'd _need_ coffers.

He'd also need help. He glanced at Avocato. Children, he'd said? Maybe there was something in that idea.

"Why don't you step into my office," he invited, sweeping his arm towards the back room of the shop. "Let's talk."

_-Fin-_


	9. Epilogue: Avocato

The universe was laughing at him.

He just knew it.

He'd be laughing at himself, too, except somehow his mouth was stuffed full of playing cards.

Cosmic justice came around on him for the pleasure he'd taken at watching the Tera Con Empire collapse piece by piece over the past three years. Just as expected, without him to keep them in line, the Lord Commander's remaining lineup of generals had spent more energy and time trying to one-up each other than maintaining the boundaries and laws of the empire. They'd also wasted a lot of time trying to capture Avocato - not on any order from the Lord Commander, but because each of them wanted to pick his brain. He'd actually led them on a merry chase a few times, and they were desperate enough to pursue him, sometimes clashing with each other as they did so. Ruarini had been killed fighting the Niarn. Shooripy's flagship crew had mutinied, killing most of the officers and taking the ship and her consorts for themselves. Tchop's convoy vanished in the Vaw Maelstrom pursuing the mutineers.

He would have loved to see the Lord Commander's reaction to this news. He could just imagine the raging fury with no viable target.

Avocato had done some work as a bounty hunter, but he was too well known to be truly efficient. The moment he took his helmet off and people recognized him, things usually went downhill fast. He'd even had a few bounty hunters come after him - foolishly optimistic types he'd left dead in an alley . . . and a bar . . . and in an asteroid field.

Really, it was just easier to lay low and look for updates on E35-1 or his son. When Terk had approached him looking for assistance, though, he'd accepted immediately, knowing what this meant.

He had finally, finally come face-to-face with Gary.

This man was an absolute, total, and complete idiot.

And Avocato had married him.

So what the hell did that make _him?_

Insane. He had to be insane. It was the only explanation that fit the facts.

Gary Goodspeed was irreverent, empty-headed, and desperate in equal measure. It made for a volatile combination. Avocato had been anxious moving through the _Galaxy 1_ , afraid one of the other bounty hunters might inadvertently harm Gary to get to E35-1 (he had not dared to let himself think of the little green planet killer as Mooncake, for fear of slipping up and using the name before it came widely known), something he would not allow. He had surrendered to Gary and the wall of gun-toting SAMES behind him easily enough. In part he was curious to see what Gary would do, but Avocato was also afraid to find out what the unstable blond might pull if he resisted.

He was starting to regret that decision.

So now he was trussed up in a bench seat in a prison barge dining hall, forced to play cards for hours on end with Gary, Mooncake, and the ever-annoying KVN. And he was annoying. Avocato longed for his guns so he could shoot the robot again. It took a few rounds for Avocato to remember the card games Gary was playing and he was enduring, and out of sheer annoyance with the situation, Avocato made it a point to win as often as he could. Why not? He had nothing to lose, not even his sanity. All his worldly possessions – and they had been few enough – were gone, disintegrated when the _Galaxy 1_ had lightfolded in an attempt to escape the band of bounty hunters boarding her. He had nothing left but what he'd been wearing. The pulse wave had disintegrated his ship and rid him of some highly untrustworthy companions. He just wished the wave had caught Terk along with the others.

He couldn't even enjoy being tied up by his husband. Gary, of course, had zero clue that they were married. Were they married? Did it count if his past self found out he'd married future Gary? In a rare moment of self-doubt, Avocato wondered if younger him had made a mistake having absolute faith in older him's decisions. He'd considered himself married for the past ten years. Was he? It was supposed to happen just a a day or two from now, but at the moment, Avocato couldn't imagine wanting to do anything less. Their discussions circled round and round, skirting just on the edge of arguments. He ran fast and far on fumes, this Humanoid Trash. Gary rambled incessantly – cards, mingling, Quinn, cats, insects, pick-up lines, hating on KVN, odd humor Avocato had to relearn, cards again - and then to top it off, he made a video log for Quinn. Who was Nightfall in Avocato's experience. And he include Avocato in it. If he sent it and it was intercepted, he'd call the whole universe down upon their heads.

Gods, he had a headache. It was named Gary.

He'd thought the headache would fade once he found the _Galaxy 1_ , but that was not the case at all. Gary _was_ the headache.

How the hell was this manic chatterbox the kind and sensitive captain of the _Crimson Ligh_ t that he'd fallen so deeply and helplessly in love with on Zee Secundus? Knowing what was going to happen was not all it was cracked up to be, because while he knew the general chain of events and the outcome, the finer details were killing him one brain cell at a time. If Avocato had wanted to run from Captain Goodspeed ten years ago, right now he was seriously considering murdering Gary for his own good. He might have, save for the fact that solution would leave Avocato stuck with KVN the Indestructible and HUE the Overbearing.

But then Terk returned and obtained a scan of E3- no, _Mooncake_ , and events tumbled one over another in a turbulent landslide, sweeping them down, down in a wild rush. Clarence, Terk, Little Cato, the Lord Commander, Gary – his whole sordid past seemed to bear down at once, trying to swallow him whole.

It was nearly successful, but for Gary stepping in and saving him.

Again.

Well, that and jumping off a catwalk.

Then suddenly, all was quiet. And still. For once, that included Gary as well. Their rescue was mere minutes away. Avocato floated with Gary in a plasma shield projected by his wrist guards. He held Gary tight in his arms and could feel a slight tremble in the man's frame. The trauma of losing his arm might bring on shock, but this ridiculous Infinity Guard pajama Gary wore had lost its integrity and couldn't protect him in space anymore. He was going to get cold fast.

"HUE's gonna have kittens we lost the Hawk," muttered Gary. Apparently he was allergic to silence.

"Let 'em," said Avocato, not exactly sure how an AI could have children. He tried to distract Gary as they waited for pick up by the _Galaxy 1_. Both of them were mentally and physically beat, so he kept it simple for now. They could get into the heavy discussion after Gary was recovered. "What can he do? Send us to our rooms? And who taught you to pilot an F-71 like that?"

His head close to Avocato's, Gary chuckled. "No one. Five years in isolation, you have a lot of time to learn a lot of skills. Not all of them useful. That was the first time I actually flew one."

"Really? Nice job," said Avocato, meaning it. Gary's piloting technique had been unconventional (and hair-raising), but they'd survived the journey, so Avocato counted it as a success. "You nailed the landing."

He felt Gary press a little closer, probably looking for the warmth and softness of a Ventrexian. Captain Goodspeed had mentioned numerous times in the past how much he appreciated how Avocato was always so warm and . . . snuggly. That was the word he'd used as they lay tangled together, sharing a berth. Only Gary Goodspeed could get away with calling General Avocato of House Cato, the second in command of the Tera Con Empire, the Master of Death himself, _snuggly_. Instinctively, Avocato reached up and placed his hand on the back of Gary's neck as he used to do for Little Cato, holding him close and soothing him. He remembered, too, how responsive to touch Gary had been in those few stolen moments of intimacy between them. He wondered how this younger version would react.

"Thank you," Gary said softly, and Avocato knew he was being thanked for far more than one small compliment. Gary tightened his arm around Avocato's waist as Avocato carefully rubbed Gary's back, mindful of his injury but trying to stave off shock until HUE arrived. Touch-starved, the older Gary had described himself. It was a terrible, heartbreaking state for anyone to endure. Was Little Cato feeling that now? Gary had been alone and lonely for far longer than five years, he knew. It was remarkable that he'd taught himself to pilot a Hawk, but then, except for his father, no one had ever really taught Gary Goodspeed anything positive, had they? Everything he was right now, he'd made himself to be.

And then, as if the day hadn't dumped enough revelations and drama on him already, it suddenly hit Avocato that he had gone about this all wrong. He had the wrong set of expectations for this whole situation. He needed to reset and start from scratch. This wasn't a reunion, any more than thirty-one-year old General Avocato meeting Captain Goodspeed on in Geegua Spaceport had been for him. This was an opportunity. How many people got to meet their best friend and husband for the first time - twice? The only other person he knew of that would have that chance was in his arms right now. Avocato had expected to walk back in to Gary's life and find the man he'd married when that man didn't exist. Captain Goodspeed was a man who knew sacrifice and loss. His husband had lost everything he loved and then fought against all odds to rebuild his life, gaining a family and a son and a ship to call home on the way. The man he held right now, Gary, the prisoner, was not that man.

Not _yet_.

But he would be.

He needed Avocato in order to become everything he _could_ be. And right now, more than anything, he needed a friend.

Avocato smiled to himself. He could do that. For Gary. For Little Cato. And their future.

Because, he reminded himself anew, already feeling the tug on his affections, Captain Goodspeed was very easy to fall in love with.


End file.
